


the lies told

by skuls



Series: X Files Rewatch Series [35]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s11e01 My Struggle III, dont worry this is very much a debunking of csm's claims in that episode, i hate that slimeball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 14:31:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15366708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skuls/pseuds/skuls
Summary: A complex explanation of CSM’s lie about William’s paternity.





	the lies told

**Author's Note:**

> this is DEFINITELY not a fic meant to validate the bullshit plotline of csm supposedly being william’s father. i think that plot is bullshit (most evidently in the fucking tagline of the episode, which reads I WANT TO LIE). but i felt like i couldn’t exactly ignore it, and after writing several fics about csm’s obsession with being a father, i felt like i could see the motivation behind it. so this is my attempt to reconcile my firm belief that mulder is the father. 
> 
> this is a pseudo-sequel to everything changes but the sea, and the csm in this story is the same csm portrayed in that story and in the AU story california winter. there are also references to the reyes in relinquo, scully being able to see william in shatter on impact, and mulder and scully both being able to see william in the season 9 AU whirlwind. it is not necessary to have read any of those to enjoy this one, but i think that reading everything changes but the sea can help with the understanding of my portrayal of csm here.
> 
> disclaimer: i hate csm, and i don’t agree with several of his claims or opinions throughout, especially his opinion on adoptive parents. warning for mentions of the my struggle iii plotline (all in the sake of debunking, but still), and for csm generally being creepy.

“To live the lie, you have to believe it.”

— Fox Mulder, 5x02  _ Redux II _

 

“I want to lie.”

— 11x01,  _ My Struggle III _

\---

He'd wanted a son for years. Someone who he could raise, who would look up to him and who he could be proud of. And he did have sons, two of them, but both of them had been such disappointments. Jeffrey was a weak, spineless coward who had eventually betrayed him, and Fox was essentially an enemy by now, who loathed him with all of his being. They both loathed him, Jeffrey and Fox, even after all these years. And all things considered, Spender guessed he probably deserved it. But he still longed for that father-son companionship that he'd never had with his own sons  _ or  _ his own father.

Bizarre as it was, when he heard he had a grandson, it seemed like a second chance. An opportunity to raise a child that didn't disappoint him. 

He didn't hear of William for months, didn't know the boy existed. He'd been hiding in the desert since late 2000, and he had no idea what was happening to Fox or his precious Scully. He'd heard wind of an abduction, but as far as he knew, Fox was alive. But he didn't know about the baby until it was too late. Until an informant contacted him with the news that his grandson by way of Fox had been given up for adoption by his mother. Some scheme on the part of Jeffrey, in an attempt to protect the boy. 

Spender wanted to laugh when he heard it. The boy was named after Bill, a grandfather who wasn't even his. The irony was palpable, as did the irony of Fox being unable to raise his own son, a torture Spender himself had endured for years. Still, he thought, it was regrettable. He would've liked to meet the boy, this boy who did carry some of his DNA. As Fox and Scully's child, he was sure to be impressive, and with the upcoming invasion, it would've been useful to have leverage against them, a way to control him. He wished he could've known about the boy earlier; he would've sent somebody to find him. He would've brought the boy here, raised him, taught him what he needed to know to survive. William could've been like the son he never had… 

And then it dawned on Spender in a split second. The boy was just a baby, and he was living with a new family. He wouldn't remember his true parents. He wouldn't know the identity of his father. And, the informant had told him, Scully and Fox neither one knew where their son was. Jeffrey was probably watching the boy, he'd had a hand in the adoption, so he couldn't take the boy outright, but there were other things he could do. William would not have the luxury of simply fading into anonymity; he would have a role in the upcoming invasion. And when he realized who he was, Spender could be there to step in. To take Fox's place as the father that William deserved.

It was a wild idea, but he didn't forget it. Even when he landed in the hospital as a result of the missiles in the New Mexico desert, he thought about it, lying dormant in his hospital bed. About the story he could create. He didn't know when the boy had been born, but by his approximations, Dana Scully must've gotten pregnant before he went into hiding. He had a perfect window of time he could claim that would hopefully work with the boy's birth, time he knew made them both furious: the trip he had taken Scully on in the summer of 2000. There was the incident where he had drugged her in an attempt to check the state of her chip without her knowing; he knew that missing time had tormented Scully horribly. It was a lie, but no one knew what happened in that time besides himself and the housekeeper (he'd simply used a sort of scanner to make sure the chip, similar to the one Spender had put in his own neck long ago, was still working properly). He could claim paternity just as easily as Fox. 

(And Spender, of course, would've been lying if he'd said he wasn't doing this in part for revenge. He loved his son, and he cared for Fox's Scully in a bizarre sort of way, but he also resented them for what they'd done to him, all the plans they'd ruined. Leaving him for dead in the desert. He pictured their horrified faces, their son coming to  _ him  _ instead of them, and it made him smile.)

He spent a lot of time lying in that hospital, and it was then he decided to test his limits. He had a connection to the boy, a small one, but one that could only be heightened by the parts of Fox’s brain he'd taken during his surgery. He had his son's telepathy now. And the boy, he discovered, had it, too. Had a connection to Spender himself, and his parents, and  _ anyone _ , if he tried hard enough. But it was only a two-way street in three scenarios: his parents, Fox and Scully, and Spender himself. 

Spender was pleased by this ability, pleased by his decision to perform the surgery on Fox and himself nearly three years before. But when he reached out, entering the baby's mind for the first time and saw the connection he still had with his parents—weakened by the adoption, by the separation, but still there. He doubted any of the three of them understood what it was, but there it was. And it was a problem. At least in terms of Fox—it would make sense if the boy could still hear his mother, because Scully remained his mother in Spender's scenario, but for this to work, he couldn't be able to hear his true father. But it didn't matter, because telepathically speaking, Spender was stronger than both of them, especially considering the fact that he had taken Fox's telepathic capabilities in the first place. William was so young, and he wouldn't remember a thing. So it was decided. 

Spender practiced for days, staring up at the ceiling and sliding in and out of the baby's mind. He could do it with anyone, if he wanted to, but distance played a role and it was harder if someone was far away. The only reason he could do it so easily with William was because of their shared blood. The man that connected him with this baby—his grandson, his  _ son _ —and the man that he was trying to erase. And one day, he was able to. He slid into the boy's mind with ease, found the connection to Fox Mulder and severed it. Stepped right in to take his place.

_ I'm your father now, boy,  _ he thought, even though he wasn't sure if the baby could hear  _ or _ understand him.  _ I deserve this more than Fox does. I'm not the one who threw you away. I'm your father now. And one day, you will know me and look up to me. Not him.  _

He remembered that for years after. Held onto the potential in that small boy, revisited his mind again and again. He had raw power and no one to help him understand it; he'd be incredibly useful in whatever happened with the invasion. He looked like Teena, long dead and mourned; he looked like Agent Scully. He looked like Fox. 

\---

After Carl Spender was discharged from the hospital, he and Monica went to South Carolina. He spoke with her as he healed, knowing of her close friendship with Scully. He told her about William's bond with his mother that could only be described as beyond science—he’d observed it many times, proud of the boy, proud of his efforts to halt that bond with Fox. He had observed their bond many times through William's eyes, though he knew neither of them knew what it was. 

Monica was quiet while he told her this, as she so often was. She held a cigarette between two fingers and listened silently. She seemed almost uncomfortable, but Spender didn't dwell on it. Perhaps it was a result of picturing the baby somewhere else, with strangers. “You knew the boy,” he said. “Before Scully gave him up.”

Monica took a long drag on her cigarette. He was grateful to have an employee, a companion, who shared his proclivity for nicotine, even if she was sharing his company begrudgingly. “Yes,” she said. 

“Was he… healthy?” Spender asked. He had high hopes for this child that he was claiming as his, higher hopes that he'd ever had, it seemed, for Fox and Jeffrey. This child was strong; this child had abilities they'd never had. This child was being raised by people who were unconnected to the conspiracy that would eventually define his life. He wouldn't be given up to experiments the way that Jeffrey had been because he already was one.

Monica threw her cigarette on the ground and stamped it out with the toe of her boots. “I suppose you could say that.” Her voice was dark, almost angry. “His life was threatened a lot. It was the reason Dana gave him up.” She got to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest. “I'd rather not talk about this right now, if you don't mind,” she said coldly to him. 

Monica didn't like him very much yet. Spender believed she'd come around eventually. He nodded, and she walked away. 

Spender sat by himself in his vast living room, and thought of William. Imagined him here, living in this house, playing in the yard, looking to him for advice or comfort. Much in the same way he'd pictured himself raising Fox and Jeffrey together all those years ago. He knew it was impossible, the same way that had been, but he knew that one thing differed: William would not disappoint him. Fox's son had become his son, and his son would change the world.

\---

Years passed. The planned invasion gradually faded out of reality in the wake of their dying planet, and Spender was forced to come up with a new solution: the Spartan Virus. He and Monica found themselves largely occupied with the preparation for that, but he found time to check in on the boy. He was growing up, getting older, and learning the expanse of his powers. When Spender checked it one time, he found that the boy was in the hospital. An incident at a birthday party that had spiraled out of control. He was all right, physically, but he was being kept in the hospital because they didn't understand what he was. Spender smiled to himself indulgently. They had no idea what he was, no inkling of his potential. But  _ he  _ knew. 

The boy was in a hospital in Wyoming. Unable to resist the chance to see the boy in person—there were so many people in a hospital, they probably wouldn't even notice him—Spender asked Monica to book two tickets to Wyoming. They left the next morning, flying out to see the boy that Spender now considered his son. 

Monica drove him to the hospital. The two of them wandered upstairs, drifting past nurses and doctors until they reached the children's ward. Spender knew the boy's new last name—Van de Kamp—and searched for the room with that name on the outside. When he saw the first name, he smiled. Apparently the Van de Kamps believed they had the right to change William's name, and had done so accordingly. The boy lying in that room was called Jackson. Spender didn't mind—quite the opposite. He loathed the fact that Scully and Fox had named their son after Bill Mulder, who had no claim to either Fox or Jackson. He would've liked to pick the boy's name himself, as his other sons had been named by their mothers, but no matter. It would do. 

He instructed Monica quietly to wait outside before entering the room. The boy—Jackson—was asleep, a small lump under the pillows. His hair was dark, and overgrown like weeds; his cheeks were spattered with freckles. He could see a little bit of Agent Scully in the shape of his face, but otherwise, he looked just like Fox had looked as a child. Spender's chest tightened, just a bit, at the thought of his defiant son as a child with his silly bravery and his stupid fucking name. This felt like a second chance, an opportunity to get things with Fox right. 

He drew closer, carefully. The boy didn't wake up. He slept, peacefully, and as Spender peered into his mind, he saw what Jackson dreamed of. Not of his mother, or the father Spender continued to block out, or the rightful father that he himself was. He dreamt he was at a house Spender supposed was home, playing with a kitten on the floor. Common boyhood fantasies. He could feel a longing very powerful in the boy, a plea to go home, and Spender had to resist the urge to snatch the boy up and take him to  _ his _ home. He'd be safe and happy there.

He instead reached out with one hand and placed his palm on top of Jackson's dark head. “You are my son,” he whispered, and as he said it, he believed it. He may have been delusional, but he believed it. “I may not have contributed any DNA, but I care for you. I want you to follow in my image. To be the man that—” 

“Who the hell are you?” 

Spender turned to see a man standing in the doorway, fury across his face. Disgusted with himself, he panicked and said, “I'm the boy's grandfather.” It was what he'd been thinking, even if he didn't feel like it. 

The man's face turned nearly red. “Well, I'm his father,” he growled, “and I've never seen you before in my life.”

A sense of calm washed over Spender, suddenly. This stupid man who had no right to the boy. He turned away from the bed, reaching into his jacket for his cigarettes. “It's amusing,” he said casually. “You really have no idea who I am, do you?”

“Get the hell away from my son,” the man—Van de Kamp, he deduced—growled.

“He's not your son,” said Spender easily, because he wasn't. 

Van de Kamp seemed to panic; his eyes widening, he shouted, “Security! Nurse! There's a strange man in my son's room! Help!”

Spender calmly tucked the cigarettes in his pocket and walked towards the door. “Your devotion is admirable.”

The man shoved him up against the wall in his fury, his arm against his chest. Spender winced; he could feel the pain resounding in his lungs. “Security!” Van de Kamp shouted, banging Spender against the door frame again, and then he was running to the boy's side, still calling for Security.

Spender could've stayed, but he didn't want the trouble. He walked out the door and down the hall to find Monica waiting for him. “That was risky,” she said in a scorning voice as she matched his pace, walking towards the elevator. “And very stupid.”

“Perhaps.” Spender stabbed the Down button with one finger, struggling to take normal breaths and compose himself at the same time. “But it was worth it,” he added. He really believed that. 

\---

The years passed. Spender continued to keep tabs on Jackson, popping into his head every now and then. The boy started to recognize him, began not to like the presence in his mind, but Spender knew it was only because he didn't understand. He would grow to appreciate him someday. Jackson Van de Kamp had a darkness about him; he hurt people, sometimes, and Spender didn't think it was an accident. He had more of Spender in him than he had Fox. Someday, he'd come to stay with Spender and he'd understand that they were the same. He could fulfill Spender's legacy. 

He kept tabs on his son, too. Jeffrey stayed in the same house in DC for years, living a quiet life off of the blood money that Spender had sent him. Reparations for what he'd been subjected to. It was the best apology he could offer, and Jeffrey had essentially accepted it by taking the money. But they didn't speak to each other, certainly not. Jeffrey had never forgiven him for Cassandra. He kept his tabs on Jackson as well, caring for his nephew in his own strange way, even though he had been the one to separate Jackson from his family in the first place. But no matter. Jeffrey had no idea that Spender knew exactly where the boy was, that he had already defined his place in the boy's life.

Fox reappeared in 2008, him and his Scully living somewhere in Virginia, assisting the FBI. Spender didn't look too hard, although he could've known where they were if he'd wanted to. He knew what would happen when the Spartan Virus hit, after the invasion didn't happen—he would die, and Scully wouldn't. Scully was immune. Scully and Jackson would survive. Maybe he could be generous and reunite mother and son after it was all over. Maybe they'd be grateful enough to stay with him.

Spender watched and he waited and he planned. And he lived his lie every day, believing it more and more, that he was Jackson's true father. He wanted to believe it, so he did. Jackson was his second chance, his plans rejuvenated. And he was more powerful than Fox or Jeffrey had ever been. 

\---

When the time came, he told his lie to Walter Skinner easily. It was the first time he presented the fabrication to anyone else, and excitement prickled up his spine as he told it. And Skinner believed him, bought it hook, line, and sinker. Spender was delighted; it had  _ worked. _

He told Skinner because he wanted to manipulate him, wanted the man on his side. But also because he wanted people to know it and believe it. He wanted Fox and Scully to know, he wanted to see their pain. And he wanted Jackson to know, someday.  Most of all, he wanted Jackson to believe it. 

He wanted to lie, and so he did. It was a lie, but it was  _ his  _ truth. 


End file.
